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Making Sense of It All

Let The Dandelions Grow

by Lee Etscovitz, Ed.D.

As winter gives way to spring and warmer weather, the grass starts growing and so do the dandelions. In the name of an unbroken expanse of green grass, I, like most homeowners, strive to get rid of the weeds which spoil that expanse, which, of course, means getting rid of the dandelions.

At the same time there is something to be said for dandelions. With their bright yellow blossoms like many little suns, they greet the day. And they are persistent in their struggle for survival, rooting themselves deeply and usually sprouting several blossoms from the same plant. When they grow old, the breeze carries many parachute-like seeds all over the lawn, thereby multiplying each plant into many more little suns. If unchecked, dandelions can soon dominate a whole lawn.

And so we check them, with weed killers of one kind or another. As I stated initially, I, too, try to get rid of them, even though I admire them for their brightness and persistence. So why, then, do I suggest in the title to this piece that we let the dandelions grow? Am I being hypocritical? When I talk about letting the dandelions grow, I am really thinking of human beings, human beings somehow different from the majority of people who make up the human landscape. The dandelions symbolize for me all those people who are different, in this case transgendered people. Getting rid of dandelions on the lawn is one thing, but getting rid of human dandelions by treating them as human weeds is something else.

It was with these thoughts about dandelions that I wrote the following poem, called "Let the Dandelions Grow." In fact, I have even set the words to music, so that this poem may even sound more like musical verse than strictly poetry. Perhaps you, dear reader, can create your own melody. In any case, the words can stand by themselves.

Let the dandelions grow,
let the clover have its way,
let the flowers fill the fields,
let my spirit sing the day.

If the world would love the flowers,
if the world would only know,
then the world would sing together,
"Let the dandelions grow."

When my love is overflowing,
when my heart is reaching out,
then at last I know the happiness
that makes me want to shout:

Let the dandelions grow,
let the clover have its way,
let the flowers fill the fields,
let my spirit sing the day.

If the world would love the flowers,
if the world would only know,
then the world would sing together,
Let the dandelions grow.

One could obviously say I am dreaming when I talk about the world letting the human dandelions grow and simply being free to be. Then again, such a dream is the basis for the writing I do here and elsewhere, for the lectures I give and the workshops I run, for the counseling I do, for my work with the Renaissance Transgender Association, for whatever political action I and many others undertake, and on a personal level, for my own survival.

Such efforts are in response to the subtle and not so subtle human weed killers we continually face. What defense is there against the weed killers? Persistence helps, persistence in being true to ourselves. Patience, mixed with the proper amount of impatience, may be the basic transgender virtue in all of this. Another name for such a mixture is "courage," the courage to go on with our lives in the midst of medical, legal, economic, and relational difficulties, as well as our own inner struggles.

I mentioned in passing that each of us could sing the words of my poem to a melody, a melody of ones own creation. Perhaps that is the point of all this: to create our own melodies, to sing our own songs, to let our spirits sing the day. Isn't that what our gender struggle, and our life struggle, is all about? Isn't that why we join transgender organizations and continue, one way or another, to fight for our rights as transgendered persons, regardless of our gender variation?

If my poetic words fit your individual feelings, if they help you to make sense of it all, then sing the words to the melody of your own life. Such a melody is not something you have to try to remember. If it is genuine, if it is an inner melody, then it will simply present itself. It will simply be. It will be you and your own human melody.

Presenting ourselves to the world as we really are, while usually difficult in the short run, is beautiful in the long run. Call us weeds if you will, but we can be persistent bright spots on the human lawn of life. There may be attempts to mow us down, to uproot us, and essentially to deny our very existence on this planet, but there is no denying that we are definitely part of this planet. We are as much a part of life as the earth beneath our feet and the stars above our heads. Somewhere between heaven and earth lies our struggle.

So, let the dandelions grow. Let the melodies flow. And perhaps in the orchestration of our individual voices we and the rest of the world will hear a chorus that no weed killer can destroy.

Want to comment? Send email to Dr. Etscovitz at hmdm@voicenet.com.

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